


The Tattoo Inside My Brain

by does_that_scare_you



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Body Worship, Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Jealousy, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/does_that_scare_you/pseuds/does_that_scare_you
Summary: Hannibal knows their taste, smell, texture, but he still doesn't know the story of Will's tattoos.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 68





	The Tattoo Inside My Brain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hollymollyjolly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollymollyjolly/gifts).



> It's been a while that I have posted smut, but here it is! Enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: It hasn't even been 24 hours since I have posted this fic, and it has already more Kudos that most of my other works have gotten in months. I'm mind-blown. Thank you all so, so much.

"I can't seem to curb my curiosity anymore."

Will let his eyes slide over the last words of the chapter, before closing the book and rolling onto his side; facing Hannibal. The psychiatrist himself seemed to have forgotten about the one he had started a while ago, judging by the way it laid completely closed on his nightstand.

"About what?", the younger man asked, while following his gaze. The maroon eyes had a blackish undertone as they were fixed onto the bare skin of his lower arm. Yellow, blue and red were enterwined into the shiny scales of a hand-sized carp.

"The tattoo?"

"Not that one only, if I am being honest."

"All my tattoos were already there when I first met you, not to mention the first time we got...", he grinned cheekily, "...inmate. There is nothing you haven't done to them, no way you haven't touched them yet."

"I might know their taste, but not their story."

Hannibal leaned over to trace the thick, black outline of the fish, barely touching, just teasing.

Will shuddered. "There're too many for to tonight...aren't they?" He stroked the psychiatrist's clothed thigh and let his fingers slip around the inner curve.

"But we will take our time", he hummed and propped himself up on an arm he put next to Will's head. Hooking a finger into the fabric of the loose sleeve, pushing it up further to examine the almost feminine features of the animal.

"This one seems to be one of your firsts, considering how bleach it is next to others."

"Well, not the very first, but...the third I think. Also, it is so bleach, because it was made with a bad needle. A boy I knew back in highschool used my skin for the sake of practise. Extremly talented artist - as you can see - but unexperienced. I can't bring myself to recover it, though. It was his last work."

"Did he pass away?"

"Not physicaly. But his mother saw my tatoo and recognized the signature hidden in the fin. See? A. H."

That part was indeed the only thing about the tattoo that was obviously done without much experience, but still recognizeable with half-closed eyes.

"The last thing I've heard of him was that he was sent to a boarding school, the last four years of his scholar life. And that he studied law after his graduation. So yeah, he is basicly dead." 

"May he rest in peace", Hannibal chuckled and marked his way to Will's collar with kisses. The agent shifted on the sheets with a sigh, as a web of heat expanded on his skin.

"'I Am In Chains'", the psychiatrist quoted from Will's collar bone. The writing adjusted to it was delicate and ornamented with curves and arches, almost like his own. "You mentioned once that in college you busied yourself a lot with literature. My guess would be Virginia Woolf, but she doesn't seem quite like your type of novellist. Charlotte Bronte would fit you, but not exactly the quote. Was it a male author?"

"Hm...yes. German-spoken."

"Franz Kafka?"

"Correct."

"That would have been my third guess and if I am not mistaken, the rest of the quote is: 'Do not touch my chains'."

"I actually wanted to have that on my other collar bone, but that would have been way too edgy. Even from my point of view back in the day, which is almost a miracle. Besides, it was already reserved."

Turning to Will's other side, he was confronted by a yellow, wide-open eye and a dangerously long beak, shining through the thin fabric of the shirt. The art work was fantastic, so realistic that Hannibal almost didn't dare to touch it, concerned that the bird would bite him.

"One of my favourites", the younger man commented. "I spend my loan for almost an entire month for it, because it is the first time I went to a professional, but hey, I think it was worth it."

"At least I enjoy its little details. The structure of its feathers, for instance. Or the scar this peaceful-looking fellow is supposed to guard." He empathized his discover scraping it with his finger nails; the small, bleach bead; catious about not damaging the tissue any more. It felt soft underneath the animal, almost like a real bird, a sign that Will had been self-consious about and had taken well care of it.

"This is a lesson about my life, not about the ways you can manipulate me." A flush had crept up the agents neck, both of arousal and ebarassment that Hannibal already seem to have his ways.

"Oh, my bad, I must have confusen something."

The psychatrist's smile was calm, but sly as he put the shirt back in place, a quick hand-motion to get the wrinkles out of it.

"I see patriotism in this art."

"Hm-well...yes. Cynical patriotism and pride only a college student can have", Will attempted to seem calm as well.

Silently, he added that he had kept that cynical pride partly for himself even almost two decades after. He was never entirely willing to let Hannibal gain the absolute control over him; fighted for his pride's sake until the very last moment before finding himself lost again in the beast's belly.

Even when he was sure to have the dominance; the devilish eyes of his lover made him realise that that, was still a part of his plan he would never share with him. That's how they have created their little vicious circle to be and it was time to turn it once more.

The psychatrist plucked the shirt out Will's waist band - slowly - as if it was an unspoken demand. The agent showed that he had understood by letting his hands slide down his own body, brushing Hannibal's on purpose and throwing his shirt over his head. Just as slowly and tentavely as his lover self.

Will's chest was a collage, black, blue, red an enigma protecting his memories, thoughts, decisions; yellow, rosé, grey. Hannibal has wished many times that he could take in and unlock everything at once.

Maybe he had a chance today, he thought, tracing his rib cage with both hands and tongue. The left side had a tattoo expanding all over it and what he first thought to be a letter resulted to be a quote as well, in much smaller, printed-like letters.

"I can live alone, if self-respect, and circumstances require me so to do. I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure born with me-"

"-which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give", Will continued, slightly panting from the touch. Something inside of him was glad that Hannibal was busy with his upper half, so he could not see the aching hardness building up down town. Another voice pleaded to finally be released from the torturous tenderness and gifted with the sweet violence he craved for.

"Charlotte Bronte...I knew it."

The agent huffed. "How very surprising."

He regreted his words soon after, as the psychiatrists pinched his left nipple hard. Will couldn't help but whine. Hannibal of course did nothing but grin at him, knowing his power over his lover's beautifully responsive body.

But the grin faded a little as suddenly a name came to his eye. Just below his crimson nipple; in the same elegant handwriting as the Kafka quote, just smaller.

Richard.

"I suppose this to have a rather special meaning."

"Huh?"

"Richard."

"Oh my-don't get me even on that one."

The sudden change in Hannibal's voice made Will feel unbearable hot and cold at the same time.

"So there is something special about it."

"Nothing worth mentioning."

"I would like to hear it anyway."

Now it seemed as if was indeed planning to take a trip towards downtown as he - without breaking eye contact- grabbed the prominent bullge in Will's pyama trousers and gave it a generous squeez. Whatever it is that was leaving the younger man's mouth was not even a whine anymore. It was rather a pained scream. In the middle of the sound, he lifted his hand to his face and bit on it furiously - full of shame - while his blush even deepened.

"It is rude to mantain silent when you are being asked a question, William", Hannibal's grin has a slight sadistic note as he remarked so and without even attempting to slip his hand beyond the agent's waistband, he began to kneed him; slow and merciless.

"Fi-fine-okay. He was my boyfriend in college. Satisfied?"

"Not quite. There is more to a person that just a relationship if you decide to carve their name forever into your skin."

"I was drunk."

"And?"

"And-fuck..."

With the accuracy only a doctor can possibly have, the psychiatrist cup his now heavy balls and rolls them in his delicate, warm hands so his eyes roll back.

"And?"

"H-high. And fucked out. And...god this is humiliating."

And by that he didn't only mean the story, but the way pre-cum was already leaking down thights after such a short time.

"Keep going."

Hannibal quickened the pace, almost panting himself. Of course that little son of a bitch was getting of to this.

"A-as said I was drunk, high and fucked out and I said: "H-hey, you did it so well I want to have your name on me-jesus!"

"Is this better than that?", he asked as he licked the tip of Will's cock through the perfectly thin fabric.

"Ha-hannibal", Will moaned, not believing that he was confronted with such an intense question in his situation right now.

Said man slowed his movements down. "Yes or no, Will?"

"Why are you...please-fuck, please!"

"I am waiting for an answer."

"Fuck you!"

"Very unwise, my dearest", the older man stopped completely.

"Yes, Yes! Better! Much! Better! Just finish me off, I beg you!"

That and three, four strokes more was all it took to make his body painfully tense and relax again with tremour. As he left Nirvana again for the mortal world, he was greeted by a wide smile.

"That was indeed an entertaining lesson, was it?", the psychiatrist said conversationally as if hadn't just jerked the life out of the younger man's body. Will didn't know, didn't want to answer, so Hannibal went to the bathroom next door in the search of a wet towel.

The agent was left there, hair and trousers sticky and with the realisation that his lover had won another round.

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by The Jonas Brothers' 'Sucker'.


End file.
